


Recusant

by orphan_account



Series: Better the devil you know [1]
Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Dark, Gen, Violence, Yoglabs, everything is awful and i am sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-02
Updated: 2015-02-02
Packaged: 2018-03-09 13:32:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3251597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>28 was a failure. He would always be a failure.</p><p>(Note to the Yogscast: Please don't read any of my fics on stream.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Recusant

**Author's Note:**

> The Block Gun episode of Yoglabs was amazing.
> 
> (Updated 6/04/2016)

Clone 28 was a failure. It was _obvious_.

It had defied its programming and nearly cost Xephos a respawn.

If it hadn't been for his emergency force field, he would have been a splatter in the wreckage of the testing lab that clone had destroyed. A fresh body would have been to much strain on already strained resources.

So many wasted clones. The labs were sapping every penny Xephos had to spare.

He’d sold so much private tech to try and finance it all, but even that was running on empty.

The clones died so damn easily and caused so much wanton destruction because they were _corrupted_. Glitches in a system Xephos couldn't afford to have damaged. He couldn't figure out why they turned out the way they did, no matter how long he spent coding the cloning machine over sleepless nights and caffeine pills. He couldn’t figure out why they either turned out too dull to live, or too compassionate to do what he needed them to. Why everyone else he cloned, every single one, they all turned out _fine_. All but Clone 28.

Clone 28 had been the most intelligent out of them all, despite the kinks in his motion capabilities. There'd been fifty after him and only Clone 71 had come close before he had slipped into a vat of nuclear waste. Xephos still didn’t know why the clone’s legs had stopped functioning. It didn’t fucking matter.

He'd almost begun to lose hope that any of these numbers would turn right. He'd hoped Clone 28 would have been the one. The one that even got close to being a real, sentient _being_.

Though no hope would change the fact that Clone 28 was little more than a recusant who thought to make himself a martyr, either out of his own incompetence or some petty grievance with the concept of _killing_.

Xephos had long put aside his qualms about what he did to other people. It was a necessary thing for progress, to be entirely capable of stepping past walls of empathy he once thought were insurmountable. Those who kept their barriers up didn't see what would happen with such petty grievances. Especially considering the already strained situation with the outside government.

It all stacked up. All the quitting scientists, the power fluctuations. He needed some sort of funding. He needed soldiers who didn't go _rogue_. He needed power that didn't fucking _shut off_ halfway through anything he tried to do.

"Sir?"

Xephos glanced down from where he'd been counting the black tiles on his roof, suddenly aware of the backed up paperwork nestled under his palms like it'd solve itself. The latest clone of his head scientist stared into his dim office from the doorway, peering over his glasses with an expression flirting with concern. The folder of documents under his arm looked far too full, white paper packing it to the brim.

Xephos already had _enough_ to do.

"What do you want?" Xephos mumbled, letting his eyes drift back up to the ceiling. He'd counted over a hundred of the small tiles so far, he just needed to finish. It would be some sort of achievement.

"We have, uh, figured out the problem with the dwarf clone," the head scientist said.

Xephos' eyes snapped down to him icily.

"And _what_ would that be?" Xephos hissed.

"Cloning from an existing clone is risky, sir, and his DNA has become... corrupted," the head scientist said, "The system is... _functional_ , but the source is not."

"Can you fix it?" Xephos said, resting two hands under his chin to prop it up on the desk. The bespectacled man’s gaze flicked away as he cleared his throat, rubbing at the back of his neck.

"Yes. But it would dry up our resources far more than we can afford-"

"Do it."

The head scientist flinched at his intensity and spluttered out, "Sir, I must advise against this, we are nearly bankr-"

" _Don't question my orders_ ," Xephos said, sneering. The scientist’s green eyes only grew wider with shock.

"Sir -"

"I am in charge of what happens in _my_ facility!" Xephos snarled, moving to push his chair back. He was halfway through doing so when the scientist stormed over, slamming a hand down on Xephos’ wooden desk with fury.

"You are _barely_ in charge!" the scientist shouted, throwing his folder down in disgust, "This little obsession has cost us millions. Our staff is only a third of what it was, and we've had to close _half_ our testing labs in the past _month_!"

Xephos took in a sharp breath to retort but the other man slammed his palm on the desk again to cut him off. Xephos felt his blood run cold.

"You barely left this office in 3 weeks! You're a _wreck!_ I don't need a _wreck_ running this facility, and _especially_ not now!"

Xephos set his jaw, staring up at the scientist in quiet fury.

He wasn't a _wreck_. He was past emotions. He _was_.

"How dare-"

"How dare _I_?” The scientist shouted, barking out a laugh, “How dare you talk down to me on this! You just don't get it, do you? That clone will _always_ fail. He will _always fail! You will never have your friend again!_ "

Xephos began shaking with anger, teeth clenched so hard his jaw ached. He found his hand fumbling clumsily at the holster on his belt.

The lead scientist reached towards him as if he meant to hit him, his hands clenched into white-knuckled fists, and that was _the final straw._

"This is a _mutiny_ , Xeph-"

The sharp crack of Xephos’ pistol firing broke the silence like glass, the bullet burying itself squarely between the scientist’s eyes with a spray of red-brown blood. A strangled cry issued from the scientist’s throat,  his eyes rolling back into his head. He crumpled to the floor in an unmoving heap, blood streaming down from the wound.

"Good try. Got further than the last two," Xephos said, reaching idly across the desk.

Xephos slowly dragged the folder of documents towards himself, scanning the first page to find nothing but ever growing amounts of lost money. He filed them calmly into the bottom drawer of his desk. He hoped he'd never find them again.

The carpet would need cleaning, Xephos realised with a start, and he sighed heavily. He'd get another bloody migraine over this.

Xephos slipped the pistol back into his hip holster, shaking the little splatters of blood off it, and swept several weeks of paperwork off his desk to find his communicator.

It was dusty but it still worked, even after being dumped under a mountain of paper. The green light on it blipped as he flipped the on switch, the screen turning on with a faint tune.

Xephos’ fingers almost trembled as he typed, everything suddenly seeming heavy and cold. Like his head was draped in layers of ice.

_'Do what is necessary to fix the clone.'_

He tensed his forearms and the jitters stopped, calm settling back over him. The pool of blood spilling slowly over the carpet was little more than an afterthought. His carpet was already dark, so he wouldn't need to pay for anything more than a clean. The spatters on his official documents were more of an issue.

Xephos peered over his desk at the lifeless body of his head scientist, wrinkling his nose. He'd need to memory wipe the next clone of him. They were getting a tad too caring, and that just wouldn't do.

He'd fix it later, though. He'd fix _everything_ later, once he had another clone to use. He'd end all this.

 _Clone 28 was a failure,_ Xephos repeated to himself mentally, a rueful smile just barely touching his lips.

Xephos settled back into his chair, beginning once again to count the roof tiles. He didn’t even blink at the faint flecks of blood that stained them.

_He wouldn't be for long._


End file.
